Giving In
by SabaceanBabe
Summary: Towel draped around her shoulders, she grabbed her kit bag. I’ve got to teach that man about locks… A sequel to Letting Go.


**Giving In**

Author: SabaceanBabe

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1,500+

Spoilers: not so much

Pairing: Racetrack/Helo

Author's notes: AU branching off more or less from Resurrection Ship. This is a sequel to Letting Go and was inspired by an impromptu ficlet that Poisontaster wrote for me one day when I was bored and badly in need of outside entertainment. A big thank you also goes to Poisontaster for the beta.

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Kat finally left and Maggie finished shaving in peace. She shook her head, amused, and marveled at how oblivious Louanne could be to things that Maggie felt were perfectly obvious, like what had happened between her and Helo – _Karl_, she reminded herself. She breathed a sigh. _I don't know whether it's better to think of him as Karl or Helo._

Identifying him with his call sign might serve to put some distance between them, but Maggie wasn't sure she really wanted that. She'd been interested in the man for a long time, and last night… Blindsided by sense memory, the feel of him as he moved inside her, she thought that distancing herself was no doubt futile anyway.

Maggie sank into the memory of the night before and, distracted, nicked her shin, the dull razor scraping up toward her knee as it drew tiny drops of blood. "Dammit!" She dabbed her towel against the stinging scrape and hopped over to the sink, tossing the frakking razor from hell into the trash as she went.

She tore the corner off a paper towel – no need to waste the whole thing – and got it wet, then leaned down to dab at her wound, one hand on the counter to keep her balance. The sting made her wince; a scrape like that was worse than a papercut.

The hatch to the head whispered open then closed behind her. A few seconds later, a large, warm hand came down on her bare shoulder while the other slid around her hip over skin and regulation underwear, pulled her back into something solid. Maggie reacted without thought; her head whipped up and she shoved backward with all her strength, nearly knocking herself over. But the sharp intake of breath as she connected hard with his chin was quite satisfying, even if she _would_ have a knot on her head from it.

"Hey!" Karl's voice was outraged. "That hurt!"

Suddenly, Maggie was acutely aware that she wore nothing but bra and panties. She straightened and turned to face him – glared at him – but he didn't seem to be at all intimidated. "It was supposed to. What the frak do you—"

Her eyes widened and her words cut off abruptly as he came toward her, a crooked grin on his face. Funny… She didn't remember his eyes being so green or that he had freckles. Of course, she'd really only been this close to him in the bar and then in the Raptor, and it _had_ been kind of dark… He came to a stop not quite close enough to touch and looked at her expectantly. Belatedly, she realized he'd said something. "W-What did you say?" _I really have to get myself under control!_

"I said, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He shrugged and the movement drew her eyes and held them when it pulled his tanks momentarily tighter over his chest. _Gods._ "I thought you saw me in the mirror."

"Well, I didn't. I was busy performing emergency surgery." Maggie hoped she sounded grumpy, rather than flustered as she dragged her eyes away from his chest and down to her leg. _Why does he have to be so easy to look at? And the freckles…_ Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean back against the counter, hands resting safely on the surface to either side. She risked another glance at his face. "How's your jaw?"

The crooked smile returned as he lifted one hand to playfully move his jaw back and forth. He shrugged again. "Still works." He raised an eyebrow and nodded toward her. "You have a hard head."

Trying to appear unaffected by his presence, Maggie rolled her eyes and rotated to face the sink, then leaned in to turn on the water. Those green eyes, reflected in the mirror, never strayed – he watched her every move; the intensity of his gaze made her blush like a teenager. Maggie didn't know if there was enough cold water in _Galactica_'s tanks to cool her flushed skin, but she meant to try.

She forced herself to look away from his reflection and concentrated on adjusting the water temperature, allowed it to flow over her hand, but then she forgot all about what she'd meant to do when Karl came up behind her again. This time, he _was_ close enough to touch her.

Their eyes met in the mirror and Maggie couldn't have moved away if she'd wanted to. His fingers lightly stroked her shoulder and the birth control patch there. His smile faded as he pulled her hair aside and bent to trace a path down her neck to her shoulder with his tongue. She closed her eyes, her lids suddenly heavy, and leaned back into his warmth. He nipped her shoulder and she shivered.

Maggie surrendered; she turned and raised wet hands, pulled his head up so that she could kiss him as water dripped from her fingers down his neck, creating dark spots on his tanks. Ignoring the cold droplets, Karl's tongue slid into Maggie's open mouth and he lifted her to the counter. His hands remained on her hips, fingers tightening, as he slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled him in closer with her heels as she stroked a hand down his chest and stomach, stopped at his belt and began to work at the buckle.

After a second or two, one of his hands joined hers, unfastening his trousers. Together they pushed the interfering fabric down over his hips, his belt snagging for a moment on one of her heels before slipping free. There was a little catch to his breath when she curled her fingers around him and squeezed. He caught her lower lip between his teeth. Between the pressure of his teeth on her lip and the palm of his hand on her breast, beneath her bra, Maggie moaned low in her throat, almost a purr.

One hand stroked down her body from breast to hip, the other slid under her panties, slid a finger into her and she gasped. Her head fell back and her body, suddenly boneless, began to follow but he caught her, one hand splayed out in the middle of her back. A stray thought flitted through Maggie's brain as Karl kissed her throat – _I hope he locked the hatch_ – but then he was thrusting into her, not bothering to take off her underwear, and she couldn't even remember her own name as she called out his in a voice she didn't recognize as her own.

And then – almost as though she had conjured them – voices drifted through the haze, joined by a heavy, metallic clang. Maggie's eyes flew open just before Duck and a nugget whose name she didn't know rounded the corner. She heard a muttered, "Frak!" and Karl pulled out of her, away, slammed into one of the stalls behind them. There was a rattling sound as he fumbled with the latch and then either his head or his fist hit the stall door in frustration.

Swallowing hard, moving faster than she remembered ever moving in her life, Maggie jumped from the counter, yanked her bra back into place, and splashed cold water from the still-running stream into her face. She breathed in at precisely the wrong moment and ended up sputtering as she accidentally sucked water into her lungs.

"Hey, Racetrack! You okay?" The concern in Duck's voice would have been gratifying if she weren't so pissed off – and disappointed – at Karl for leaving the frakking hatch open.

She surreptitiously – she hoped – checked to make sure her straps were straight and her underwear wasn't twisted, hoping the two men wouldn't notice anything. "Fine. I'm fine. You just startled me." Tickling as it went, water dripped from her hair into her eyes and she dashed it roughly away. Her heart tripped in her chest as she reached out to turn off the faucet. Her towel had fallen to the floor and she started to reach down to pick it up, but Duck beat her to it, gallantly handing it to her before she could move more than a few centimeters. "Thanks." Her voice sounded a little shaky, but that might have been her imagination.

He nodded. "Sorry about that." The other pilot disappeared into the showers and Duck gave her a tentative smile before he moved down to the other end of the line of sinks to brush his teeth.

A toilet flushed behind her as she buried her face in the towel, her heart still racing. She could still feel him between her legs even as Karl lightly brushed her arm, whispered, "Mags, I'm sorry," before moving to the next sink over to wash his hands. A glance to the right told her that Duck apparently hadn't noticed a thing. When she turned back, Karl was gone.

Towel draped around her shoulders, she grabbed her kit bag. _I've got to teach that man about locks…_


End file.
